


Sand Doomed

by UnsolvedMisery



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: But also kinda unhelpful, Carlos is a scientist, Carlos tries very hard to be a good boyfriend, Cecil Is a Good Boyfriend, M/M, None of that other nonsense, One Month Anniversary, Post-Episode: e027 First Date, Semi-minor injuries, Shock, The One True Timepiece in All of Night Vale, The SSP is helpful
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-10 17:12:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5594284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnsolvedMisery/pseuds/UnsolvedMisery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Also known as that time that Carlos tried to be sort of romantic, but instead he ruined his one month anniversary and almost died.</p><p>Takes place in that vague time between First Date and Condos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  Carlos is in big trouble. Huge trouble. There are no human words that can adequately describe the amount of trouble that Carlos is in. That's not even referring to the fact that he's currently laying in a heap at the bottom of some hidden chasm in the sand wastes, with his leg almost definitely broken and his phone laying in shattered pieces all around him. Those are really minor troubles in comparison.

  Today is his one month anniversary.  

The celebratory dinner for which was supposed to start almost an hour ago. Forty - seven minutes precisely, according to the watch that wasn't even supposed to be his anymore.  

Carlos sighed and surveyed his surroundings for the twelfth time in the twenty-three minutes since he had regained consciousness. There was still nothing at all useful in his immediate area and the rock walls enclosing his new prison were still steep and treacherous, ensuring that he would not have been able to get himself out even with the use of all of his limbs. _I'm a scientist, not a rock climber._ So, he went back to his new favorite pastime of watching the seconds tick by on what should be Cecil's watch and wondering whether he would need to flee Night Vale of his own free will to avoid seeing the man whose heart he had broken, or if he will be chased out by an angry mob created by the same man. Neither scenario was particularly appealing, but both were better than picturing Cecil alone in his apartment, waiting for Carlos. He wonders how long it will be before Cecil gives up on him all together.   It was that comforting thought that accompanied him back into unconsciousness.   

* * *

 

  It was hot. Unbearably hot.

  Carlos came to groggily and spewed what little lunch he'd had onto the rock beside him. His skin was tight and covered in sweat and sand. The nausea was the last symptom he'd needed to diagnose himself with a concussion when added to the blurry vision, drifting awareness, and bloody stains splotching the lab coat he'd balled up under his head. One hour and thirty-two minutes this time. The sun was still high in the sky, despite it being nearly eight thirty, because apparently it had not only decided to not set at the proper time but also to remain permanently fixed directly above the hole he was trapped in until he was well and truly scorched.  

  Dinner was definitely ruined, whatever it was. Cecil had been deliberately vague about that in the dozens of enthusiastic texts he had sent Carlos throughout the day. He had missed most of Cecil's show, but he was sure that at least half of it had been dedicated to gushing about their plans for the night. His heart clenches tightly when he thinks of how disappointed Cecil probably is right now. He's most likely sulking in front of the tv while a cold dinner and discarded candles ( _Oh god, there were probably candles_.) lay on his dining room table. Probably clutching his phone waiting from yet another apology text from his unreliable boyfriend (?). Or maybe he's already texted Carlos to break things off. Panicked tears fill his eyes.  

  He doesn't want to lose Cecil. He doesn't want to go back to how things were before when he didn't have anyone to worry when he never left the lab, or care when he died in a hole in the ground. He doesn't want  to _die_ in this hole in the ground without ever showing Cecil how he really felt. And he doesn't _want all of his emotional epiphanies to come with near-death experiences_.

  He's sobbing now sucking in too many breaths of too little air for his already light head.   

 

* * *

  His mouth was dry and almost refused to open. Two hours and nine minutes, according to Cecil's watch, which makes it five hours and twenty-four minutes since he had arrived in the sand wastes, and four hours and twenty-eight minutes since his anniversary dinner was supposed to start.  

  Cecil will look for him right? He's been late for dates before, but he's never completely missed one. That has to be cause for some concern right? His team won't be expecting him back at the lab for the rest of the weekend. There's no one else to even notice that he's missing. Will Cecil worry that something happened to him? Or will he assume that Carlos had forgotten? Has he been a terrible enough boyfriend to warrant that assumption? Probably. That was the problem in every other relationship he'd ever been stupid enough to try. He'd never cared so much before. He'd never loved anyone enough to worry about losing them before he'd met Cecil. There's no way Cecil would be mad enough to write Carlos off without even trying to contact him right? Even if he thinks that Carlos is putting science first after they've talked  about that and he was doing so much better...right?  

It wasn't even about  _science_ this time.

Not really.

  He had even shut down the lab _early_ today, leaving himself plenty of time to get ready. In fact, he was so far ahead of schedule that Cecil's show was just starting when he was finished getting dressed. So, when the first story was about some rare Night Valeian flower that blooms in the sand wastes every few years, Carlos had decided that he'd have just enough time to go check it out. Because it probably had some sort of scientific significance right? And, well... Cecil had sounded so _excited_  about it on air, and maybe it was pretty, and maybe he could pick some and bring them to dinner and Cecil would give him that look he gives when Carlos surprises him. When he surprises him in a good way anyway, not the look he gives when Carlos surprises him by showing up nearly thirty minutes late to their third date covered in a weird fluorescent goo. That is an entirely different look. The point is he's trying. Not hard enough though. This disappointment will surely be the thing that finally makes Cecil see the real him. He's fallen right off the pedestal and into the grave.

His first thought upon starting to sink into the seemingly normal sand dune had been, _Quicksand_?!  

His second thought had been, _GRAVITY_?!?  

  The cuts and bruises Carlos had sustained on the way down ached with every breath, and his leg and head throbbed in sync with each other. His fingers and toes were beginning to go numb, and the rest of his body was chilled with what he recognized was most likely shock. _Or... Whatever. I'm a scientist, not a doctor_.    

* * *

  This whole fading in and out thing was beginning to get irritating. And he's blind now. Or its dark. The sun seemed to have finally set. Four hours seventeen minutes. Which makes it....something. _Ugh. Math._  

  His whole body is trembling, jarring his injuries painfully. Which is good right? Shivering and pain are good. That means you're not fully into shock. Or is that hyperthermia? Something. Shivering is good for something. Makes heat. Homeostasis. Science.  

  He's thirsty. How long can the human body go without water? Three days? Not factoring in heat and sand and sun exposure, plus the loss of fluids through vomiting and weeping.   Is he really going to die here? Will Cecil find his body at the bottom of this hole covered in sand and vomit and blood and glass and flowers? Will he know that they're for him?   ***

* * *

  There's a terrible noise. Beating. Flapping. Helicopter.  

 _HELICOPTER_!!  

Carlos' eyes fly open. He still can't see anything, but he can hear the distinctive sound of helicopter blades. He forces his stiff muscles into motion and sits up dizzily. He hits the button for the back light on Cecil's watch. Twenty-one minutes. He held his arms straight up in the air, trying to remember the Morse code for S.O.S. He could feel the air whip through the shaft as the helicopter grew closer and finally landed.  

 _God, I hope it's blue_.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tenses are weird, right? This is the first thing I've written in while and I will most likely get the second chapter up literally a year from now because I am the worst.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos gets rescued, receives sketchy medical care, and attempts a great escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! This has been a real shitty year and I've had multiple jobs for most of it, but I'm out of work now and waiting on surgery so I have writing time.

 Consciousness did not come easily for Carlos. His leg felt stiff and heavy and someone was running a damp cloth over his face.

"..Cecil?"

The mumbled name was mostly lost in the cloth as he leaned as far as he could into the touch, struggling to open his eyes. When he finally  managed to squint wide enough to see, he realized that the figure over him, although blurry, was definitely not his boyfriend. He let out a sigh of disappointment, of course it wasn't his boyfriend, because he no longer _had_ a boyfriend because he was an idiot.

"Sorry Mr. Scientist, but we have not yet reached Mr. Palmer's residence. Please remain still as you have a rather serious head injury and your cast has not yet fully hardened."

Carlos, of course, immediately broke the doctor's orders by lifting his head up to get a good look at his leg, which was now swathed in a bulky red cast. His head did not agree with the new position and a wave of dizziness made him flop back down, which was another mistake. Just one more in a long list of them. He reached up to where the pain was the sharpest, only for the doctor to catch his hand and firmly lower it.

"We've just got it to stop bleeding. The cut was pretty shallow, even if it bled a lot. Thankfully, it didn't need stitches, just a bit of glue."

She was sounding very unsure of herself and even with his fuzzy vision he could see that she was wringing her hands together nervously. Carlos was beginning to think that the wound _did_  need stitches but she was too afraid of Cecil's wrath to risk shaving the area. He wonders if he should let her know that the only angry mob Cecil will be inciting on Carlos' behalf will be the one that chases him out of town. His stomach drops as he remembers that just because he isn't going to die in a hole in the desert doesn't mean that his life isn't over.

Thinking of Cecil and his righteous fury allowed Carlos' sluggish mind to decipher the first thing she'd said to him.

"WE'RE GOING TO CECIL'S?!?"

His surprised shout startled the doctor and made his head swim but he had no concern left for either of those things.

"We can't,  just take me to my lab, I cannot go to Cecil's right now. Please, he doesn't want me there."

"It's protocol," She sniffed,  completely unsympathetic to his panic. "You filed paperwork with City Hall naming Cecil Palmer as your significant other, doing so also put him down as your emergency contact, which makes him responsible for you in case of illness or injury."

Carlos had known that not reading that contract would come back to bite him someday. At the time he would have signed his soul away (and he may have) to keep Cecil smiling like that. Now, Carlos can feel the heat of tears in his eyes. He's not ready for this confrontation. He wanted to cling to the little hope he had for as long as possible. If they took him to the lab he could at least have one more good night's sleep before everything fell apart. If he didn't give Cecil the opportunity to dump him, then they were still dating. It was Schrödinger's break-up. His vision had somehow gotten even more blurry. His breaths were coming in short bursts that made his head ache. _Panic attack,_  his mind supplied, but Carlos wasn't listening because he was picturing Cecil's face when he was dropped off on his doorstep.

He was full on sobbing now, trying to curl in on himself despite his injuries screaming at him to be still. The doctor was trying to calm him down but Carlos couldn't make out a single word. He finally felt a prick in his neck and time slipped again.

* * *

Carlos wasn't sure how many times he had woken up in the last twenty-four hours but it was _not_  a healthy amount. They sedated him. With a _concussion_. He made a mental note to never need medical care in Night Vale again, and then erased it when he remembered that this was likely his last day living here anyway. He felt his chest constrict but refused to give into the panic again. He was here now, Carlos had recognized Cecil's bedroom immediately, and panicking here would just make things harder for Cecil. There was ample opportunity to break down later.  
  
  Cecil's room was just like he remembered, maybe a little bit cleaner. _Probably in preparation of their anniversary night,_ he cringed. The SSP had left Carlos' personal effects next to him on the bed and he groped around until he felt his glasses. One of the lenses was cracked but it was better than nothing. Also on the bed was Carlos's bloodied lab coat, the watch that might never be Cecil's, and three beautiful, yet slightly smashed, purple flowers. Carlos remembers clinging desperately to them as he was airlifted out of the hole.  
Carlos debated whether or not to put on his ruined lab coat and decided that it would make him feel more comfortable. There was a large bloodstain on his breast pocket, but at least it was dry now. He gathered up the flowers and laid them gently on the nightstand. He stared at the (Cecil's?) watch for a full two minutes before dropping it into his coat pocket.  
  
Carlos braced himself with one hand on the headboard before pushing himself up onto his good leg. It hadn't escaped his notice that the house was quiet. Cecil was not home, which meant he still had the chance to put this off. The SSP didn't seem to have left him crutches, but all he had to do was hoble on one leg out of Cecil's house, over three blocks to his lab, and then up one flight of stairs to his apartment. _Easy._ Well. Not really easy, but Carlos would rather drag himself through Night Vale on his stomach than wait for Cecil to come home and find him in his bed.  
  
Standing brought the dizziness back and just the small amount of weight he had to put on his bad leg was agonizing, but even that was not enough to stop his escape. Carlos had crossed the room, leaning against the wall the whole way, and was making his way down the hallway slowly and painfully. He had been making good progress so far, but when he entered the main house Carlos stopped so suddenly that he nearly fell over. There it was. Cecil's dining room  table was laid out with what obviously was once a delicious meal, lovingly cooked and meticulously arranged for the occasion. The food had not been touched, the candles (because _of course_ there were candles) had burned down to nubs, and even though each plate had a wine glass next to it, the empty wine bottle was now laying on its side next to the couch.  
  
Carlos was crying again. The dizziness combined with the huge sobs shaking through him proved too much for his one footed balance and he toppled to the floor. His casted leg twisted painfully and Carlos knew that he wasn't getting back up on his own. Which was fine, because nothing other than Cecil's imminent and well deserved rejection could get him to leave this house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is obviously not the end and I swear I will not take a year to end it.

**Author's Note:**

> Tenses are weird, right? This is the first thing I've written in while and I will most likely get the second chapter up literally a year from now because I am the worst.


End file.
